


The Ledge

by gallagherfamilyreunion (PrincessPeach)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, for the most part anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessPeach/pseuds/gallagherfamilyreunion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, how Mickey Milkovich learned to stop worrying and love over-hyped tourist traps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ledge

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my entry for day one of Gallavich Week 2k14, "Together." Set after 4x09 and rated for language cuz it's Shameless, but other than that pretty innocent.

“So you’ve never been.”

“Fuck no, have you?”

“Well, no,” Ian confessed. “But I think it would be kind of cool. It is the second-tallest building in the country.”

“Big fucking deal, it’s a tourist trap,” Mickey said dismissively, tossing the Skydeck brochure on the Gallaghers’ coffee table. “No one in their right mind is gonna pay twenty bucks to ride a friggin’ elevator."

“Whatever,” Ian said with a shrug, and they lapsed into silence for a moment. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s gonna be home for a while,” he added suggestively, grinning as he followed Mickey up the stairs to his room.

* * *

On Saturday, Mickey knew something was up when Ian got on the wrong bus.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked as Ian boarded and swiped his metro card. “This is the 6.”

“I know,” said Ian with a sly smirk. “You’ll see, come on.”

Mickey hesitated, but the bus driver’s impatient “On or off, kid?” forced him to make up his mind.

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey replied, channeling his annoyance with Ian into hostility toward the driver: He really didn’t like surprises.

“We better not be going to the fucking farmers’ market again,” he said threateningly as he took his seat next to Ian.

“We’re not,” Ian assured him, not even attempting to hide his smug smile.

The bus filled up gradually as it continued along its route, and Mickey was extremely relieved when Ian finally pulled the cord to indicate their stop. On the list of things he hated, CTA was definitely somewhere near the top.

He was less relieved when Ian led him directly to a nearby L station, where they waited a good ten minutes in the bitter cold for the next train. Mickey braced himself against a sudden gust of wind, feeling the chill in his bones despite his oversized coat and scarf. But he said nothing and kept his expression as stoic as possible, not wanting to give Ian any excuse for a show of affection in public. They had talked (a.k.a. fought) about it before, Ian eventually caving to his insistence that it wasn’t worth the risk, but Mickey had since discovered that he and Ian had very different ideas about what exactly constituted “affection.”

So it was better not to take any chances, no matter how nice it might be to have the extra warmth of Ian’s arm draped across his shoulders at this particular moment. 

Finally the train pulled up to a screeching halt; they got on and rode all the way up to the Loop, exiting with a crowd of college kids, gawking tourists, and well-dressed shoppers. Seeing the gleaming storefronts and towering steel structures up close and personal was kind of like being in a different city entirely, and Mickey couldn’t help but feel like a little bit of a tourist himself.

Except that at the moment he was much less concerned with gawking than with figuring out where the fuck they were actually going.

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me where this little field trip ends?” he asked without much hope of getting a straight answer.

“Nope,” said Ian, pulling his beanie down further to cover his ears. As they walked he made a sneaky attempt to grab Mickey’s hand, as always, and Mickey jerked his hand away, as always.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” said Mickey when he saw the building they had stopped in front of.

“What?” asked Ian, already heading toward the entrance to Sears Tower.

“I told you, I’m not going to the fucking Skydeck.”

“Come on, Mick,” Ian pleaded. “We’re already here, why not?”

“Because it’s some lame-ass bullshit,” was Mickey’s admittedly weak comeback; it was better than admitting the real reason for his resistance.

“Okay, well, I’m going up,” said Ian. “You can stay out here if you want.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the revolving glass doors. For a moment Mickey considered calling Ian’s bluff, but in the end he just couldn’t do it.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, walking quickly to catch up with his dickhead boyfriend. “Hey Gallagher, wait up!”

* * *

Since it was off season and bitterly cold the line at the ticket counter wasn’t all that long, but it was painfully slow-moving. After at least five minutes passed with no noticeable progress Mickey couldn’t take it anymore and unceremoniously ducked out of the queue.

“Where are you going?” asked Ian.

“To get tickets,” Mickey said with a jerk of his head indicating for Ian to follow. They made their way over to an elevator marked “Fast Pass,” Ian still visibly confused but doing his best to play it cool.

“Wait one sec,” Mickey instructed him, feeling much more in his element now. He spotted a promising middle-aged white couple heading to the elevator and made his way over with a confident swagger.

“Bad news, guys,” he opened, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Skydeck’s shut down for the day; I’m gonna need your tickets.”

“The man at the counter didn’t say anything about that,” the well-coiffed woman replied in confusion. “Do you work here?”

“I’m a volunteer,” Mickey said with a smirk. “Tickets, please.”

The man frowned, eyebrows furrowing behind his thick-rimmed glasses. “I’m not sure about this…"

“Tickets. Please,” Mickey repeated slowly through gritted teeth, lifting his shirt just enough to reveal the butterfly knife shoved into the waistband of his jeans.

At that, the man seemed to bristle a little and Mickey braced for a fight; it definitely wouldn’t be the first time he’d seriously misjudged the character of a mark. Luckily, the woman had the common sense to talk her husband down.

“Oh, just do it, Charles,” she pleaded with him. “I wanted to go to Macy’s anyway.”

With a clenched jaw, the man forked over the tickets at last.

“Thank you,” said Mickey with a cheesy smile, “have a great day. Assholes,” he muttered to himself as he returned to Ian.

“Here,” he said, handing Ian one of the tickets, which the redhead accepted with a grin.

“Hey, you can’t do that,” said an elevator attendant who had seen the whole exchange, a pretty teenager wearing a Skydeck uniform and name tag.

“Do what?” asked Mickey, eyebrows raised in innocence.

The attendant frowned and scanned the lobby for someone to back up her accusation, but the well-to-do couple was already long gone.

“So, do you take our tickets, or…?” prompted Ian.

The girl rolled her eyes but—likely deciding she did not get paid enough for this shit—accepted Ian and Mickey’s tickets, tore off the stubs and handed them back.

“This elevator only goes to the 50th floor,” she explained. “There’s another one that will take you the rest of the way to the 103rd. Enjoy your visit,” she added with a sarcastic smile.

“Thank you, we will,” said Ian, and Mickey hid a smirk. It was the first time he could recall being amused by Ian’s capacity for delivering annoyingly sincere responses to sarcasm rather than pissed off by it.

The elevator doors opened with a “Ding!” and Ian and Mickey stepped on, along with a fresh-faced family of four who were definitely from out of town. When the doors slid shut again Mickey felt the knot return to his stomach and grow as the numbers on the floor indicator rose.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, but loud enough for the yuppie mom to hear and give him a dirty look.

Which would have amused Mickey greatly if all of his energy hadn’t been focused on keeping his shit together; he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the elevator wall in an attempt to quiet his nerves.

Of course, the sudden change in attitude did not go unnoticed by Ian.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning in concern.

“Nothing,” Mickey insisted, and left it at that.

The elevator ride seemed to be interminable, despite—or maybe because of—the vaguely robotic female voice delivering a litany of Skydeck-related facts.

_At 1,451 feet, Willis Tower stands as the second-tallest building in the United States._

_Construction on Willis Tower—formerly Sears Tower—was completed in 1973, and the structure remained the tallest in the country for the next 40 years, until the completion of One World Trade Center in New York City in 2013._

_The Skydeck opened on June 22, 1974 and is one of Chicago’s most popular landmarks. A 2009 renovation featured the addition of the retractable balconies known as “The Ledge,” which allow visitors to look through the glass floor to the street 1,353 feet below._

At that last fact, the two little girls on board gasped with excitement.

“Daddy, are we gonna get to do that?” one of them asked.

“Yep,” the father replied benevolently. “We’re on our way.”

At last they reached the 50th floor, following a series of signs down a nondescript hall and around the corner to the next elevator, where the whole process started again. 

Mickey rested an arm on the handrail and shifted impatiently, eager now to just get the whole thing over with. When Ian started to move his hand to the rail as well, Mickey jerked away reflexively, averting his eyes from Ian’s judgmental gaze.

The elevator stopped again at the 100th floor, just shy of their final destination, and this time two options were presented for how to continue: straight up to the observation deck, or via an interactive museum about the history of the tower and the city of Chicago.

Ian headed straight for the next elevator, but Mickey had other ideas.

“Hey, wait,” he said. “Wanna check out this museum first?”

“Seriously?” Ian replied skeptically. “I thought you hated tourist crap like that.”

Mickey shrugged. “Might as well get our money’s worth, right?”

Ian didn’t need any further convincing; from the looks of it he was just pleased with Mickey’s apparent newfound enthusiasm for the excursion. They walked down another corridor to a brightly lit open space filled with strategically laid-out, primary-hued displays and flashing video screens, along with a smattering of visitors.

Ian gushed over the first few exhibits, but quickly lost interest and began to wander the museum impatiently. Meanwhile Mickey lingered as long a possible, clinging to a last wild hope that if he dawdled enough here, Ian would forget about the actual observation deck.

But no such luck: As Mickey intently examined a wall display about Chicago-based celebrities Ian approached him, looking like he’d had more than enough.

“There’s some really interesting shit here,” Mickey told him. “Did you know Mandy Patinkin was from Chicago?”

“This is boring as fuck, Mickey,” Ian said, getting right to the point. “What’s going on?”

“I already told you, nothing,” Mickey insisted again. “Just trying to educate myself on the history of our fine city.”

He knew the line was overkill as soon as he delivered it, and watched in horror as realization dawned in Ian’s eyes as well.

“Oh my god.”

Mickey looked at him warningly, but it was no use. “Ian, don’t–”  

“You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you?” Ian interrupted gleefully.

“What? No,” said Mickey, with a wholly unconvincing what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about expression.

Ian was undeterred. “Yes, you are.”

Mickey simply crossed his arms and shook his head in denial.

“Yes,” Ian said with a vigorous nod, sensing that his boyfriend was about to crack.

“Alright,” Mickey finally conceded. “Shit. Maybe a little.”

“Huh,” said Ian, looking incredibly self-satisfied in his victory—and, Mickey hated to admit, pretty sexy too. “Go figure.”

“Tell anyone and you’re a dead man.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Ian assured him. “On one condition.”

* * *

Surprisingly, Ian and Mickey were the only passengers on the elevator up to the observation deck itself.

“You okay?” asked Ian for what seemed like the millionth time, receiving only a nod in response.

This ride was comparatively brief, and when doors opened a moment later, the view they revealed was pretty breathtaking. Stepping up to the panoramic windows, Ian and Mickey could see the city sprawled out for miles below them. The sky was a crisp, bright blue that almost seemed close enough to touch.

“You have to admit,” said Ian, “it’s kind of impressive.”

“Maybe a little,” Mickey conceded.

They stood silently for a while longer, taking it all in as a few other visitors came and went.

“Ready?” Ian asked at last.

“Guess so,” Mickey replied tersely, having agreed to venture out to the Ledge in exchange for Ian’s silence on the topic of his phobia.

The Ledge itself didn’t look that terrifying: It was just a series of narrow glass rooms, that was all. But when Mickey tried to step out onto one and saw literally nothing between his feet and the pavement 1,300 feet below, he immediately balked.

“Fuck,” he said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped back off the glass.

“It’s okay,” Ian encouraged him. “No rush.”

Mickey took a series of deep, calming breaths, closed his eyes, and walked onto the Ledge again. He could feel the building swaying slightly in the wind, but told himself that it was fine. He was fine. And then he opened his eyes and was simultaneously terrified and exhilarated—it was like floating above the city, totally free.

Only once the initial wave of adrenaline wore off did he realize that Ian was standing right next to him, and that their fingers were tightly intertwined.

Maybe it was because of the fact that they were standing in a glass-floored room at a dizzying height, but for the first time Mickey’s instinct wasn’t to pull away from Ian but to cling tighter. So that was what he did.

“Not so bad, right?” Ian said, looking at him with a bittersweet smile. “I guess there is something you’re more afraid of than holding my hand.”

The comment cut Mickey to the core, probably deeper than Ian intended or realized. But he didn’t want to ruin the moment with a repetition of all-too-familiar arguments, so he simply continued to stare out at the Chicago skyline and imagine himself in flight above it, liberated.

“So I noticed they were showing a movie down in that museum,” Ian interrupted his reverie after a minute or two.

“Wanna go sit in back and fool around?” suggested Mickey, as they stepped off the platform together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr at [gallagherfamilyreunion](http://gallagherfamilyreunion.tumblr.com) if you'd like/leave comments or kudos here if you feel so moved and/or extra-benevolent today. Thanks so much for reading! :)


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